


When Buffy Knew

by violettathepiratequeen



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: (mostly) Canon Compliant, Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, POV Buffy Summers, Season/Series 07, Spike - Freeform, Spuffy, angel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24450793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violettathepiratequeen/pseuds/violettathepiratequeen
Summary: When Buffy told Spike "I love you," it had been a long time coming. But it wasn't the first time she'd realized it.A series of milestones in Season 7 that we really never got to see the conclusion of, but which seemed to solidify their relationship.
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99





	1. Forgive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike's first night in Xander's apartment. Set during "Him."

Buffy had finally just been about to go to bed when her phone rang. She saw it was Xander calling and a wave of annoyance ran over her. Because she knew what he was calling about. She began pulling her jacket on as she answered it, not bothering to change out of her pajamas.

“We have a problem,” Xander said.

“Figured,” she replied. “What kind of problem?”

“A Spike problem,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, thank you, I actually figured that one out for myself. Care to be more specific?”

“He’s still crazy, Buff,” he said. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“What’s he doing?” she asked.

“Oh, you know,” he said. “Staring in front of my refrigerator and not opening it. Shouting at invisible people. Punching himself occasionally. I don’t think he can hear me, though, much less see me. It’s like I’m not even here.”

“I’m on my way,” she said. “Even though I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do. Has he tried to leave?”

“No, hasn’t even looked at the front door. I really doubt escape would be on his mind, anyway. He’s the one who told you he had nowhere else to go.”

“Yeah,” Buffy whispered, trying to push the thought out of her head of how small and vulnerable he’d looked when he said that. That was what had led to this idea in the first place, and she knew if Spike couldn’t snap out of it he would be an even bigger burden on Xander than he already was.

She’d hoped he had snapped out of it. She’d come back to get him at night, and that part had been easy, because she’d just asked him to come with her and he’d stood up and followed her without a word. And once outside he immediately seemed much more relaxed and surer of himself. Buffy told him he’d be staying with Xander, but he had to promise to get along and do what he was asked.

He’d looked her right in the eyes and very quietly told her he would. And she’d believed him. He was polite to Dawn and Xander when they arrived to pick them up, and it wasn’t until they were turning onto Xander’s street that he’d let out a cry and shied away from the empty seat next to him, begging…someone not to touch him.

But Buffy had managed to calm him then, even though she’d been sitting on the other side of him and was alarmed at his sudden closeness. She pushed that away and told him to look at her, and he did, in confusion, but recognition seemed to replace that, and, still very quietly, he told her he was sorry.

That had been several hours ago, and so Buffy had been letting herself hope that he was doing fine. But now, knocking on Xander’s door, she didn’t know why she’d let herself think he would magically get over it just like that.

Xander opened it and tilted his head, inviting her in. She took a breath and followed him, with her eyes almost instantly falling on the vampire crouching in the middle of the room, pressing his palms to his eyes and muttering “She won’t understand, she won’t understand…”

“Spike,” she said.

He glanced up and instantly straightened up. “No,” he said. “This isn’t…you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Wow,” Xander said. “Acknowledges you just like that. What am I, chopped liver?”

“Yeah, well I’d like to be asleep by now,” Buffy said. “But apparently you’re having difficulty adjusting.”

“No I’m not,” Spike said. “Adjusting very nicely, getting along, minding my manners, just like you asked…” He moved over to the refrigerator and sagged against it. “Just like you asked,” he whispered. “I do what you ask, Buffy, I have to do what you ask. Please, ask me anything.”

“Okay, then I’m asking you too…” But Buffy knew the rest of that sentence would be a mistake even before she’d started it. This wasn’t the time to be harsh with him. “I’m asking you to tell me what’s wrong,” she said, in a gentler tone.

He laughed, a maniacal laugh that she found was starting to feel very familiar. “Wrong,” he scoffed. “What isn’t wrong? Everything’s wrong. You, me, Xander.”

“You flatter me by remembering my unworthy name, Spike,” Xander said.

“Xander,” Buffy said warningly. She looked back at Spike. “But this is different,” she said. “This is new. And I don’t know where you were or how you got…your soul, but I’m guessing it had something to do with this.”

Spike turned his head, still leaning on the fridge, to look at her. “It hurts,” he said softly.

She nodded. “I know.”

He gave a shuddering sigh and pushed himself up. He wandered over to the corner and slid down it, before burying his face in his hands. “No you don’t,” he moaned. “You can’t know, you’ve never…lost it, and it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it was supposed to…and now it’s here and I don’t know why it’s telling me things or why she comes to me or what I’m supposed to do now, and I just want it gone, Buffy, I just want it out, I just want him to leave me alone…” he trailed off and began sobbing, leaving Buffy feeling slightly whiplashed from the constant changing of pronouns.

But she couldn’t tell him that she had no idea what he was talking about, so instead she walked over and sat down in front of him. She reached her hand out, but she’d only brushed his skin when he gave a sharp gasp and jerked his head away.

“Hey,” she whispered. “It’s just me.”

He was silent for a moment and said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me, Spike,” she said. “I’m the Slayer, remember?” She was pretty sure he wouldn’t buy that lie, but she felt the need to say it anyway.

“But I did,” he said in a low voice.

Buffy heard Xander make a noise in his throat and start walking towards them, but she raised her hand and held it behind her in warning.

“Well,” she said. “I mean you have tried to kill me plenty of times before, and it’s not like you were—” She was cut off by him giving an anguished cry. “Okay, yeah, bad move, probably shouldn’t have brought up the whole mortal enemies thing,” she said. “But Spike, I’ve hurt you and tried to kill you too, you know. Let’s just call it even, okay?” She was sounding too flippant and she knew it, but that was another lie she hoped he’d swallow.

“Don’t let me hurt you,” he said softly.

“I won’t,” she said firmly. “What, you think I can’t handle myself?” He looked up at her and gave an almost smile, and she grinned in return. “That’s what I thought,” she said. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily, William. So, come on, you gonna spend the whole night out here, or what? I’m sure your closet is very nice.”

His face instantly darkened, and he began shaking his head. “No,” he said. “No, that’s where…it followed me in there. It made me come out. It told me…”

“Nothing is there, Spike,” Buffy said. “No one is making you do anything.”

“You won’t understand,” he said, starting to tremble. “He said you won’t understand, said you can’t understand.” He buried his face in his hands again and began murmuring so quickly that Buffy couldn’t make out the words, even though she was pretty sure she wouldn’t understand him anyway.

“Buffy,” Xander said, and she reluctantly looked at him. “It’s fine. You were right, whatever’s wrong with him, he’s not about to murder me in my sleep, even if he is hearing voices in his head. You can go home, I’m okay just leaving him there.”

Buffy turned back to Spike, and was again struck with how small and vulnerable he looked. He’d never looked that way before she’d found him in the basement, and now this too was getting familiar. But clearly she wasn’t able to get through to him, and she was about to stand up when she heard something clearly in the babble.

“I don’t know how to find you, Buffy.”

She had no idea what he could mean by that, and she also had no idea why it hit her so hard. But without thinking about it, she moved up next to him. “You asked me to help you be quiet,” she said. “You remember that?”

“You said you made it worse,” he mumbled.

“Maybe I do,” she said. “But I’m willing to try anyway.” She gently pulled him down until his head was lying in her lap. He offered no resistance, but he stopped talking and began silently crying instead. He lay completely still, and she began running her hand over his hair. She’d been doing it for several minutes before she suddenly realized that she’d been zoning out, and looked up to find Xander watching her.

“If you’re about to pass a load of judgement on me you can save it,” she said coldly.

“I’m not,” he said gently. “I just didn’t know you could…do that.”

“What, you think I’ve never had a guy fall asleep in my arms before?”

“Not that. I didn’t know you could…reach him. Know what to say to him. He’s insane and he’s obsessed with you and you’re still jumpy and suspicious of him, and yet you were able to pull out the warm fuzzies just because he needed you to.” He walked over and crouched in front of her. “And hey, I’m the one who called you here, so I must have expected something like this. But, Buffy, you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“He won’t hurt me anymore,” she said stiffly.

“I get that,” he said. “But that’s not the point, is it? Because he did it, it was done, and even he understands that in his looney twisted demon brain. It was a huge deal, and it’s something some people would never forgive.”

“I know,” she said. “But I…” she swallowed. “I do. I do forgive him.” She looked down at the sleeping vampire in her lap. “You hear that, Spike?” she whispered. “I forgive you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing how fandoms can stay alive for so long just because some of us were extremely, extremely late to the party.


	2. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy sits up with a still very shaken Spike, on the night he asks her to help him. Set after "Sleeper."

“Help me,” Spike said in a broken voice.

Buffy wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly, but she didn’t have to ask, because Spike raised his tear-filled eyes to hers and said it again.

“Can you help me?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d uttered those words to her, but it was the first time where she truly wanted to. And even more than that, she felt like she needed to. Had no idea how to, but that was a minor problem. “I’ll help you,” she said.

He gave kind of a relieved gasp and buried his head in his hands again. “Come on,” Buffy said gently, standing up. “Let’s get you out of here.” She held her hands out to him, and he took them without looking at her and let her help him stand up. He followed her silently out of the house, holding his arms tightly across his chest.

He was silent on the way home, as well, and Buffy chose not to speak to him, though she did glance at him every so often. But he was never looking at her. He stayed huddled in his coat, and stared out the car window. When they arrived, he made no move to get out, and Buffy had to walk to the other side and open the door for him.

“Hey,” she said gently, and waited until he dragged his eyes up to meet hers. “You okay?”

He nodded, and stepped out of the car, following her up the front path. Buffy looked at him again just as she was about to open the door, and noticed that he’d started shaking. Not very violently, but enough for her to notice. She stopped and gripped his arms. “Hey,” she said again. “I told you I’d help you, okay? You trust me, don’t you?”

He closed his eyes and turned his head away, but he nodded, and she nodded as well. “Okay,” she said. “Good.” She opened the door, ignoring Willow coming down the stairs, who gasped as she followed them into the living room.

“Buffy, what happened?” she instantly demanded, as Buffy carefully set Spike down in a chair.

“Pass me that blanket, would you?” Buffy asked, and when Willow complied, she draped it around Spike’s shoulders. He instantly clutched it and pulled it around him, and Buffy crouched down in front of him until she could look into his eyes. “You’re gonna be okay,” she said. “I’ll be right over there. I’m not going anywhere.” She stood up, and finally turned to Willow. “Xander here?”

She nodded. “He and Anya came over a little while ago. Buffy, what—”

“Would you go get them?” Buffy asked. “And Dawn?”

“Okay,” Willow said softly, giving one more glance at Spike before hurrying away.

When they’d all gathered, Buffy told them what had happened, and what she knew, but she realized even before she’d finished that they wouldn’t love the idea of her getting close to him. Spike, she realized, must have guessed that too, even before she did, which was why he’d been apprehensive about entering the house. But he couldn’t go back to Xander’s. Buffy knew it was dangerous, but it would be safest for everyone concerned if she kept Spike under her roof. And she knew her friends would see that, even if they weren’t happy about it.

When they’d dispersed, Buffy went back over to him. “Well, no one voted against me, which means you can sleep on the couch tonight,” she said. “Sound good?”

He made no reply, and she sighed and sat down on said couch. “I mean that’s probably not a permanent solution, I admit,” she said. “But I don’t know what to tell you. The bedrooms are all occupied, so I guess we could either stick you in the basement or you can try to talk Dawn into giving up her bedroom, though I don’t know what you could say to her to get her to want to share a room with me.” She waited to see if he’d answer, but he didn’t even change his expression. “But don’t worry, you’re not faced with that ultimatum tonight,” she continued. “I’m told the couch is actually pretty comfortable, as long as demons aren’t breaking the window behind you.”

He still made no indication that he’d heard, so she tilted her head and studied his face. “Spike?” she asked. “You wanna move, or are you gonna try falling asleep in that diabolical old torture device?”

The blanket slipped off his shoulders, and he instantly pulled it back up. That satisfied her enough to know he wasn’t completely catatonic, so she nodded and sat back, pulling a magazine off the coffee table. “Fine,” she said. “I can be stubborn too, you know. If there was an award for that, I’d probably have it by now. In fact, I’d probably have won it for 21 consecutive years.” She opened the magazine, but then glanced up at him. “But seriously, I know you’re going through something, and it’s scary,” she said. “And I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere. So you just let me know when you’re ready for me to.”

This was better, anyway. And she had also just said she wasn’t letting him out of her sight, so, apparently, she was going to start by taking that very literally. She wasn’t worried about falling asleep; as a Slayer she could stay alert when there was danger present, even if it wasn’t particularly easy or pleasant. But it wouldn’t be the first time she’d done it.

Which was why it was alarming to her when she found herself lying on the armrest of the couch, and could tell, even though her eyes were closed, that sunlight was starting to make its presence known. She’d let herself fall asleep after all, and she couldn’t recall when it had happened. A light touch on her head was what had woken her up though, and she lay for a moment with the feeling of Spike’s hand running over her hair. “Well would you look at that,” she heard him murmur. “Seems as though you trust me too, eh, Pet?”

She opened her eyes, but instead of finding him standing in front of her, he was still in the chair, and still wrapped in the blanket. She bolted up and he turned to look at her, watching her blink at him in confusion.

Both of them turned to face the stairs when they heard a door slam, and Dawn yelling to ask if Willow had seen her backpack. Buffy giggled, and ran her hand through her hair. “Wow,” she said. “It’s a good thing I’m not actually a night guard. I’d be so fired right now.”

She looked at him, silently begging him for a reaction, and was thrilled when she saw a tiny smile light up his face. As far as she could tell he hadn’t slept at all, but the look in his eyes wasn’t so dull anymore.

She sighed and stood up. “Okay, so now I do have to decide what to do with you,” she said. “Fortunately, the house should be empty pretty soon, and then—”

“Buffy,” he said in a low voice.

Her name was always something she took for granted. Everyone used it, obviously, because, well, that’s what it was there for. But never with anyone, not Riley, or even Angel, had she felt such a thrill at hearing it used as when Spike used it.

She stopped talking, and tried to keep a neutral reaction. “Yes?” she breathed.

He shifted slightly, and then said “I—I’ve been feeding on human blood for a while.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I know that already.”

“No, but—” He shifted again, as if he was embarrassed at what he was trying to say next. “It’s—I mean putting a halt to that is not going to be all sunshine and rainbows.”

She stared at him. “What?”

He sighed in exasperation. “It’s gonna get ugly. Pretty soon, if I’m not mistaken. I may have a soul now, but that doesn’t mean human blood isn’t still…addictive.”

“Oh.” Buffy suddenly got what he was trying to say. “You mean like…you’re going to experience withdrawals?”

He slowly nodded, and looked up at her. “Broadly speaking. A fairly nasty version, anyway.”

“Well, withdrawals usually are,” she said. “To anything.” She took a breath, and said, “Okay, then…and I hate to say it, with everything you’re going through, but…I’m going to have to…”

“Tie me up.” He nodded, and gave another flicker of a smile. “I know.”

“And that’s okay?” she asked. “Do you—”

“Trust you?” he finished, and this time gave a smile that lasted. “You know I do, Buffy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buffy can drive, right? I know we don't really see it because apparently she's bad at it, but she ends up alone in way too many places for her not to be driving some of them.


	3. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy tends to Spike once she rescues him from the First. Set after "Showtime."

Spike gave a kind of snort once they’d made it down the basement stairs. “How posh. It’s not just chains anymore; you’ve gone and gotten a cot installed.”

Buffy looked quickly at him, but didn’t reply. It was the first time he’d spoken since she’d rescued him, or the first sentence anyway. He’d kept saying her name, softly, as if he was having trouble deciding if she was real. Buffy knew she was going to defeat the First somehow, but she hated that it wasn’t corporeal. The more it messed with Spike, the stronger she had an urge to tear its head off with her bare hands.

She helped Spike over to the bed, and lowered him down gently. “I’m going to get some supplies,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Buffy?” he whispered again, just as he had done for nearly an hour.

“Yeah,” she said, glancing back at him. “Still me.”

She wasn’t sure what she was going to say when she went back down there. Spike could handle more than most, and she was perfectly aware it wasn’t the first time he’d been tortured. Probably not the first time he’d had his mind messed with, either. But so what, did that mean he would come out of all this perfectly fine? Maybe in a couple days, but right now, she didn’t think even he could just walk away with no trauma. The question was how much to ask him about, then. She gathered what she needed, and silently thanked her friends for keeping the Potentials out of her path. She couldn’t explain anything to herself right now, let alone any of them.

When she made her way back down the stairs, he was sitting up, and was already looking at her when his face came into view. He smiled at her, and even though she really didn’t feel like smiling back, something made her do it anyway. But she couldn’t hold it for long, and it fell as she perched on the bed next to him. “Here,” she said, handing him a mug.

He drank from it, and his face twisted. “There’s not just blood in here.”

“No,” she said quietly. “I figured you’d be in a lot of pain.”

“Not an ideal amount, certainly,” he said, and examined the mug. “Still, if this is going to knock me out, I think I’ll have it when you’ve gone.” He set it on the ground, and then slowly reached out and pinched the very edge of the sleeve dangling around her wrist. He rubbed it between his fingers, and started to say her name again, but stopped. He seemed fixated on her sleeve cuff, so she left that hand motionless in her lap and used her right hand to lift a cloth to his face and sponge away the blood. “Well,” she said. “Then if you feel up to having a shower, I’d do it soon, before the mini cavalry wakes up and starts fighting for hot water privileges.”

“The what?” he asked.

She looked up at him briefly. “Oh, yeah, you kinda missed all that. Apparently, my potential successors are being targeted for murder, so Giles has started collecting them and bringing them here.”

She was prepared for further questions on that, but all he said was, “Oh.”

She glanced down at the markings on his skin. “You might have some pretty epic scars on your chest there,” she said.

“Mm,” he said. “I don’t wager the cuts went deep enough.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Look pretty deep to me. Maybe it’s better if they don’t last, though. They might accidentally summon something.”

He smiled, and grimaced as she started dabbing his swollen eye. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he said, “It’d be a hell of a party trick, though. Rip off my shirt and some beastie appears. Bet I could score some free drinks with that.”

She pulled her cloth away and looked at him in surprise, before moving on to his chest. “I’m sorry if this hurts,” she finally said.

“Oh, don’t worry, I think the frequent bludgeoning of my cranium just about did in my nervous system.”

She looked up at him again, but he was still trying to smile. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Peachy,” he replied. “Why?”

She slapped his arm with her cloth. “Stop that,” she said.

“What?”

“Being so flip, you imbecile. You were gone all that time getting…frequent bludgeonings and apparently getting teased with me so much that you couldn’t even tell when the real me showed, and now you’re as casual as if I’m removing a splinter, so would it kill you just to act a little more traumatized?”

She stopped for breath, and when she looked back up at him, he was squinting at her. “Right then,” he said. “Let’s kick off this trauma-fest with something I’ve been right terrified of asking.”

“Spike, I didn’t mean—”

“No, really, this was something I was going to have to know sooner or later.”

She sighed. “What?”

He hesitated, and then asked, “How long was I in there?”

“65 days,” she said, without thinking. Then her eyes widened, and she watched as his eyebrows raised and he started smirking at her. “I mean—it’s only that…well I only knew because I tried to get you out as soon as possible…and that after that first week every day just seemed like a waste, and…” She hit him with her cloth again as he continued to smirk. “Shut up, it’s not what you think.”

“Of course not,” he said. Fortunately, he didn’t press it, and she finished cleaning his wounds and applying bandages where they were needed before he finally spoke again.

“So it’s January 19th, then,” he said.

She looked up in surprise. “Um…yeah, I guess, have you…been working that out this whole time?”

“Well, I wanted to know,” he said. “If I’d missed it.”

“Missed what?”

He finally let go of her sleeve and lifted his hand to caress her chin. “Happy Birthday, Buffy.”

“Oh…that.” She tried not to smile, but utterly failed. “Hey, you’re the one who told me I shouldn’t celebrate it anymore.”

“Well if you call this celebrating, then I needn’t have said it.”

She shrugged. “Honestly though, me having a birthday at all is kind of a miracle, I guess. Most Slayers don’t get this far.”

For whatever reason, that made his hand clench and start trembling, and he immediately pulled it back and folded his arms tightly across his stomach.

“Spike, are—are you okay?”

He barked a laugh. “Me?” he said. “She asks about me?” He raised his eyes to hers, and she was startled to see a haunted look in them. “Being a vampire for more than 100 years,” he said. “At some point you’ve been introduced to all the torturing they can come up with. Pain is an old friend of mine, Buffy, and healing quickly is an even older friend. You think I was ever worried about my sorry neck in there?” He gave a shuddering gasp, and closed his eyes as a tear dropped from them. “It all blended together,” he said quietly, after a longer pause then Buffy would have liked. “At first it was easy to tell it wasn’t you, and at the end there I’d almost accepted it was never going to be you. Almost. But there was a dodgy bit…in the middle…where I thought it was you, and…”

He had to stop because his voice was starting to shake, but Buffy laid her hand on his knee and said, “And what? What did I do?”

“You came for me,” he said. “Not just once. Over and over. Sometimes they were dreams, but even those got too sodding impossible to separate from reality. And when it wasn’t a dream…when it was that thing getting in my head…it…you…”

He bent forward, leaning his forehead on his wrists, and Buffy pressed again. “Spike. I’m right here.”

“You died,” he said, and scoffed. “I’m sure it got a lot of laughs, putting on a show, making its pet pretend to kill it while it screamed. I know it wasn’t you, but it looked like you, and now I have images of you drenched in blood that I will never be able to unsee.” His hands slid down his face, and he turned to look at her. “Even more so because I’ve seen it before,” he whispered. “The genuine article, your broken body, your funeral, your bloody headstone, Buffy, and every time I think of how frustratingly mortal you are, I…”

His voice broke completely over those last few words, and against all her remaining common-sense Buffy suddenly put her arms around him and pulled him against her chest. “I’m right here,” she said again. “Solid, all the way through.”

He grabbed her with one arm around her waist and reached his other hand up to clutch her shoulder, burying his face in the crook of her neck and shaking with sobs. She began quietly shushing him as she ran her fingers through her hair, even if it was somewhat arbitrary because he was making very little noise. But she continued anyway for a long while until he’d calmed down, and had sat up again, avoiding her eye.

“I didn’t mean for you to actually get traumatized,” she said apologetically.

“Yes you did. Because you know I have to get it out, as quickly as possible, so go off, interrogate me, purge me of my demons.”

"You said you’d almost accepted it was never going to be me,” she said, seizing the opening he gave her. “Almost as in not quite?”

“Almost as in not quite,” he whispered. “It tried to tell me you wouldn’t come but I…I told it you would.” He said it easily, but the words shot through Buffy. He’d known. He hadn’t doubted that she’d rescue him. There had been times where she herself wondered if she’d even be able to, but he... “Probably why I believed its little stagings of your demise,” Spike sighed. “Because that’s what I knew was going to happen when you did come.”

“Well, it didn’t,” Buffy said firmly. “And in case you’ve forgotten, Spike, I jumped off that tower of my own free will. Nobody killed me in that instance. I don’t go out that easily.”

“I know,” he said. “I know. If you did, I…you’d have died by my hand years ago. Well, by my teeth more literally.” He shuddered and added, “I hope you appreciate that that’s been keeping me up a fair bit for months now.”

“Good,” Buffy said. “It should.” He offered no response to that, so she leaned forward and said, “Hey. Look at me.”

He did, slowly, and she took his hand in both of hers. “I’m still alive,” she said. “Or—alive again. Again. And believe me, this time I have every intention of staying that way for as long as I can.”

“Don’t you have a heaven to get back to?” he asked weakly.

“Yeah, well, I’m fairly confident it’ll still be there in 70 years when I finally get around to dying again,” she said.

It took a second, but he was able to smile in response. “Good,” he said, and then just as quickly as he’d dropped it, his laughing-in-the-face-of-pain act was back up. “Believe me, you’ll be ready to absolutely decimate the bucket at 92. It’s not that exciting of an age, even for those of us who have eternal youth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Buffy wiki was very helpful in telling me that Spike was specifically captured on November 15. And Buffy's birthday probably would have been around the time of the episode after this, anyway.


	4. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy has Spike's chip removed. Set after "The Killer in Me."

“His chip,” the general said. “We can either repair it…or remove it.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t consider having it repaired. It would be nice to not have to worry about the trigger anymore, because the chip would render the trigger almost useless. But then again, maybe it wouldn’t.

And it wasn’t as if she didn’t think she should let her friends know. It would be a big change, letting Spike off the leash, and plenty of people with souls still went around hurting and killing people. The soul didn’t make Spike a saint.

But really, it was never a question, and it took her all of five seconds to give her answer. “Take it out,” she said. “I want it gone.”

The general looked at her closely, but he nodded. “Of course, Miss Summers.”

They didn’t heavily sedate Spike, not enough to put him fully under, anyway, as the soldier performing the operation explained to her, but he had been passed out ever since they’d lifted him to the table. The chip had been firing nonstop by then, apparently, and the creature in the lab hadn’t helped either. 

Buffy watched the operation from the doorway, vaguely listening to the soldiers discuss the demon’s body, and heard the general ordering them to make a sweep of the building to make sure there were no other creatures. She finally made her way inside, and stood next to the table, staring down at the patient.

“I can’t believe he’s still alive,” the medic commented. “Everything with an implant was intended to be killed within a year.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said. “That was his theory.”

The soldier briefly looked up at her. “I realize it’s not my place to ask about him, but—”

“Then don’t,” Buffy said firmly, turning her gaze on him.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just have too many people on my case about him right now.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Agent Finn trusts you, which means I’m under orders to trust you, too. I didn’t mean any offense, Ma’am.”

She grinned and sighed. “Gosh I forgot how much I loved the military speak.”

He laughed, and Buffy looked back down at Spike. He was so quiet now. She’d tried imagining what it would be like to have the very center of your brain constantly zapped, but she knew she couldn’t come close to the reality of it. And she knew he hadn’t been screaming just to get attention. She could tell he’d been trying to keep it contained, which meant that the pain had to be pretty extreme.

Yeah. Removing the chip was never even in question.

“All right,” the medic said finally, pulling Buffy out of her thoughts. “That’s it.”

“What?” she asked.

“It’s over,” he said simply, standing up. “It’s out.”

She looked at him, almost suspiciously. “Let me see?”

He held out a tray to her, and there it was, in several, bloody pieces. She cringed, but kept looking. Spike had actually been walking around with that thing in his brain for three years? “You’re sure that’s all the pieces?” she asked.

The medic gave a soft laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s all.”

“And you didn’t put anything else in?” she asked, and he laughed again.

“No, Ma’am,” he said. “He’s officially a free vamp now.”

Apparently that wasn’t entirely true yet, because Buffy had to sign a document that said she would take responsibility for him, and if he turned hostile again it was no longer the Initiative’s problem. That was what she took away from it, anyway, and she almost laughed as she signed it, because what had even made him their problem in the first place?

“What happens now?” Buffy asked the general.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that his healing properties will have him completely recovered by morning,” he said. “And the drugs will only take an hour or so to wear off. Would you like us to relocate him somewhere until then?”

She hesitated, and shook her head. “I think I’ve used up all the times I can bring him home to my friends as an invalid.”

“As you wish, Ma’am,” he said, smiling. “Then we’ll take our leave of you now.”

“Thank you,” she said. “For…well, you know what for. And…and thank Riley for me.”

“I will,” he said. “Have a good night, Miss Summers.”

“You too,” she said quietly, and watched his soldiers march out of the lab as smoothly as they’d entered.

She stood staring after them for a while, and then turned, and pulled up the chair the medic had been using. She plopped down on it with a sigh, and began studying her nails. “What was I thinking?” she said aloud. “Oh, no, big strong soldier guys, I don’t need you to take him home. I’m fine sitting in the creepy abandoned medical lab by myself with a vampire who can kill people now if he wants. No problem. I don’t—”

She stopped when she heard Spike groaning, and jumped up so quickly she knocked the chair over. She ran to him, and watched him blink and press the back of his hand to his forehead, curling his fingers. “Buffy?” he asked.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “Don’t try to move, okay? Apparently you’re still going to be drugged up for the next hour or so.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“It’s out,” she said. “It was super gross, too, it was like all broken, and—”

“What’s out?” he mumbled.

“Your chip, silly.”

He froze, and finally raised his eyes to meet hers. He opened and closed his mouth before opening it again to say, “How?”

“The Initiative,” she said. “Remember when the lights turned on and they were standing there all ambushy?”

He slowly shook his head. “Last thing I remember is the demon, Pet.”

“Oh, yeah, well that’s gone,” she said. “And so are the soldiers, and so is the chip. Just me and you, now.”

He moved his hand off his forehead, and squinted. “It’s really gone?” he asked.

“Well, you tell me, are you experiencing any more spazzings in this general area?” she asked, waving her hand around his head.

A look appeared on his face that she couldn’t really understand. His eyes took on a loving gentleness she only saw on rare occasions, and even though he wasn’t smiling there was such a radiant happiness apparent on his face that she immediately felt like she had to change the subject. 

“Anyway,” she said. “They said that demon we fought probably was only here a few days, and was only still here because it got lost. So we shouldn’t have to worry about running into anything when we get out of here.”

He was smiling now, but he was still looking so piercingly into her that she shoved his chest. “Go back to sleep,” she said huffily. “You’re not supposed to have woken up yet.”

“Your friends won’t be happy about this,” he said. “Because I reckon you didn’t let them in on your little scheme to give the shark back his teeth?”

“They’ll deal,” Buffy said quietly.

“They’ll try to get rid of me. And who can blame them, since we don’t know whether the First was having me kill people with a working chip or—”

“They’ll deal, Spike,” Buffy said, in a louder voice. “You’re part of the group, and they will accept you and your help just like they always do.”

He tilted his head. “That’s not why you did it, though,” he said.

“I did it because it was time,” she said. “And it’s been time, for a long…” she paused. “Time,” she finished, failing to come up with a better word.

He gave a sad smile. “Well,” he said. “I think your friends might—”

“Stop saying that!” she burst out. “Stop saying that, as if you’re not one of them.” She snapped her mouth shut as he blinked in surprise, but she knew she couldn’t stop now, even if what she was about to say would make him look at her so affectionately that she couldn’t handle it. “Our relationship has been all over the place,” she said. But you’ve been my friend, Spike, since the day I invited you into my house. Well—reinvited you. And yeah, I’ve hated you at times since then, and you and I have both done things to each other we wish we hadn’t. But here we are, and you’ve got a soul, and I’ve got an ex who could take that thing out, and when they gave me the choice to repair it or remove it…”

“They gave you a choice?” Spike asked, in a voice barely above a whisper.

“It was never a choice,” she said.

He pursed his lips and glanced down, but he reached his hand out to hers and she took it, rubbing her thumb over it as she watched his eyes fall shut again. She pulled away after a few moments and went to pick up her chair, but stopped when she heard him mutter “…don’t let it control me anymore.”

She closed her eyes and winced. She’d almost forgotten the other thing that was controlling him. “Right,” she said to the chair. “We’ve still got the trigger problem, which is what we were supposed to be working on.” She turned back to Spike, and smiled. “But we’ll work that out. For now, I’m good settling for this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This show is obviously genius, but it did have that pesky habit of occasionally ending an episode on a cliffhanger, and then opening the next episode like "oh yeah, that was resolved, obviously, what did you think was going to happen?"


	5. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike spared Robin Wood, and Buffy tries to talk about it with him. Set during "Lies My Parents Told Me."

Buffy marched out of Wood’s garage and headed off in the direction Spike had left in. She could see him, in the distance, at the end of the street, and she ran after him.

“Spike!” she finally called as she caught up with him.

He turned to glance at her, but didn’t break his stride. “Not in the mood to discuss this right now, so you can just run along home.”

“I…I had no idea,” she said. “I never thought they’d go that far.”

He sighed. “I know, Pet. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have known, though,” she said. “The way he spoke to you when he met you, even when you were being civil…”

“Not really his fault, either. He couldn’t do anything about his mother way back when, and he felt like he could do something now.” He considered, and then said, “Actually, yeah, that kinda does make it his fault.”

“Spike, will you just stop for a minute?” Buffy asked, grabbing his arm.

He instantly pulled it away from her, but he did stop, and turned to face her. “What? What do you want me to say, Buffy?”

She hesitated, catching her breath, and then looked around. “This isn’t the way home,” she pointed out.

“Well done. What, is stating the obvious some Slayer ability I don’t know about?”

Her chest tightened, and a fear struck her that she’d never considered before. “You’re not…leaving, are you? You can’t just leave, we—"

“No,” he said, and his face softened. “I’m not, you needn’t worry about that. I wouldn’t do that. No, I’m going to get sloshed off my rocker before I think better of it and go back to kill your sodding principal.”

“Oh, yeah, because coming back drunk at 3 in the morning to a house full of teenaged girls is going to go over so well with those who want you dead,” Buffy said.

He glared at her. “You think I don’t know better than to do that?” He turned and started heading off again, and Buffy followed, trying to come up with something to say to stop him.

He sighed without looking back. “Look, I’m aware most of them want me dead, and I don’t give a bloody damn; their opinions don’t make a lick of difference to me. You need me, and I’m going to stick by your side, and that’s enough. But we’re not facing imminent death and destruction tonight, so just let a fellow have a drink, all right?”

“Well,” Buffy said desperately. “What about your trigger, hm? We should still talk about—”

“The trigger’s deactivated,” he said shortly.

That threw her for a moment. “It is?”

“Our dear mutual friend was just the punching bag I needed to get it out, seemingly. Song doesn’t affect me anymore.”

He still didn’t look at her, and showed no signs of halting, either, and all Buffy could do was follow in silence. She willed the words to come out, any words, because there were a number of them storing up in her head that she wanted so desperately to be able to say.

She was aching to tell him that she was unbelievably proud of him for sparing Wood’s life. Spike had every right to kill him, since that’s what Wood had been trying to do, and clearly Spike had been the victor, but no, he’d chosen to be the bigger man, and that was definitely something new for him. And Giles had said Spike needed to work through whatever memories that song carried with it, and whatever was preventing him before, he’d accomplished it now.

She couldn’t be prouder of him.

But just thinking of all that was forming a lump in her throat, and she sniffed in an effort to fight the tears away.

He abruptly turned when he heard that, and sighed when he saw the tears in her eyes. “Buffy…”

“Please come home,” she said in a small voice.

His forehead slightly wrinkled. “What’s the matter with you?”

She sniffed again, and folded her arms. “I don’t want you to…” But she couldn’t think of a way she really wanted that sentence to end. “I just need to know you’re safe,” she said carefully.

He paused for a while, and looked away. “Bloody hell,” he said under his breath, and looked back at her, adding in a louder voice. “Fine. I think you still have beer in the fridge, anyway. Or did you toss it out when you had to child-proof everything?”

She laughed, causing a tear to fall as she did so. He smiled, and reached towards her face, wiping the tear away with his thumb.

She bit her lip and looked down, and he jerked his hand back and looked down as well. 

“What you did,” she said slowly. “I really am…” but she again got stuck on what she wanted to say and had to just look back up and smile instead. “Thanks for not killing him,” was all she managed. He gave a brief nod in response, and headed back with her in silence.

When Buffy opened her front door, she was greeted by Dawn crying on the steps. Dawn’s head instantly whipped up and she cried, “Buffy, Giles told me that—" and then stopped. “Spike? You didn’t die?”

“Sorry to disappoint, Love,” Spike said, and grunted as Dawn suddenly launched at him and threw her arms around him. He looked at Buffy, who raised her eyebrows and glared at him, and he awkwardly wrapped his arms around Dawn. “Right,” he said. “Not exactly the dire threats I was expecting.”

“You know how hard it is to kill this vampire?” Buffy asked Dawn. “Believe me, I’ve tried, and if I couldn’t do it…” She headed off to the kitchen. “I’ll look into the beer situation.”

Dawn punched Spike’s arm. “You scared me!” She snapped.

“Believe me, it wasn’t a giggle fest for me either,” Spike said, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “So what’s with the sudden bout of affection, Bit, I thought you were avoiding me?”

“I was,” she said. “I mean, I am. I’m still mad at you for hurting Buffy, and don’t ever forget it.”

“I don’t think I can,” he said.

“But that doesn’t mean I want you dusted,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. “Right. Well, I’m not.”

She crossed her arms. “So?” she said. “Anything you want to say to me?”

He considered. “Such as?”

She pointed to the bandage on her forehead, and he briefly closed his eyes. “Yeah. That. I’m sorry for throwing a cot at you, Nibblet.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I guess.”

“And I’m sorry for hurting her,” he said. “It honestly was the last thing I wanted to do, and if I ever do it again I hope you do set me on fire.”

“Spike, it’s okay,” she said. “I may have kind of been bluffing.”

“And I’m sorry about last year,” he said. “After I left. Clem tells me you came looking for me to babysit, and I was busy on the other side of the planet getting ensouled and all.”

“Spike, I really was just looking for an apology for the cut on my head.”

“Yes, but that’s not all that needs apologizing for, is it?” Spike asked. “You keep losing people. Not right for anyone your age to have to go through that much. And I didn’t make matters better by running off into the night.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Yeah, yeah you did. Getting a soul was important.”

“But I could have done that anytime,” he said. “I wouldn’t have gone then if I’d known about…the witch.”

“No offense, but we didn’t really need you for that one. I mean…we didn’t even really need Buffy either, which was weird. Xander stopped Willow by himself.”

“I’m not talking about Willow,” he said. “I’m talking about the other one. Tara.”

“Oh,” Dawn said quietly. “Heard about that too, huh?”

“I heard about everything,” he said. He stepped forward and laid his hands on her arms. “I’m…sorry about her, Dawn. I know she was a good mum to you.” Dawn didn’t reply, so he added. “Besides, I think she’s the only one of you who has never had a desire to drive anything sharp and wooden through my breast.”

“Oh, and you liked her for that reason, did you?”

“Well, yeah, it certainly helped our relationship,” he said. “Proved she had a good head on her shoulders. Well, she proved that other times, too, in all fairness.”

Dawn looked up at him and smirked. “Wow,” she said. “I had no idea you cared.”

“Takes a bit of time to get used to, doesn’t it?” he grinned. “But yes. She and I always got along, just like your real mum and I did.” 

Dawn nodded. “Thanks,” she said.

He nodded, and caressed the side of her head, near her bandage.

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

“Not even in question,” he said.

Just then Anya appeared at the top of the stairs. “Dawn,” she scolded. “You’re supposed to be in bed, what are you…” she stopped when she saw Spike. “Oh,” she smiled, tucking her hair behind one ear. “Spike. You’re not a pile of dust.”

“So I keep hearing,” Spike said.

“Well, good,” she said. “It’d be difficult for you to help us if you’re a pile of dust.” She looked back at Dawn. “Come on,” she said. “I told Buffy I’d be responsible for making sure everyone goes to bed, so she can’t say I don’t do anything.”

Dawn rolled her eyes at Spike, and smiled. “Good night, Spike,” she said.

“Good night,” he replied, and when Anya and Dawn had gone, he turned to the dining room and saw Buffy standing there, smiling at him. “Well?” he asked. “Have we looked into the beer situation then?”

She held a bottle out to him, and he kept his eyes on her as he opened it and started drinking from it. “What?” he finally asked.

She shrugged. “When you said you remembered your promise to protect her,” she said. “I didn’t realize you actually meant you’d become an important part of her life. The way Willow and Tara told it you were like her older brother. Why’d that stop?”

“You do it better, I suppose,” he said. “The sibling thing. And the protecting thing. I mean I wasn’t really needed anymore once you came back, was I?”

“That’s not how family works, Spike,” she sighed, as she turned and went back into the kitchen.

He followed her. “Well, you’ll have to forgive me, Love, I don’t exactly have a strong understanding of the whole family concept.”

“You said you gave Robin a pass because you killed his mother.”

Spike raised the bottle to his lips again and didn’t answer.

“I don’t know a whole lot about you,” Buffy said. “I mean, from before you were a vampire. Interestingly enough the books weren’t really interested in you when you were just some random human.”

He scoffed. “Don’t have to tell me.”

“But you must have had a family,” she said. “Of some kind. And I can tell because you’re poetic about your relationships. You bonded with my mother. You looked out for my sister. You spared Robin because you didn’t spare Nikki. You totally get the family concept.”

He gave a wry smile and leaned forward on the counter. “You’re really hung up on me not killing the principal. Did you think I would?”

She crossed her arms and looked away, and for a long while she was silent, but Spike quietly waited for her to respond.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you,” she finally said. “Well—that’s probably not true. I would have given you a lecture that you’d be catching reruns of for weeks. But that’s it, because right now, I’m more upset with him, and I can’t even tell you how mad I am at Giles. And they’ll be paying for it, but I’ll get over it with both of them, because I know they’re good men and they’re trying to do the right thing.”

“But you aren’t sure I fall into that happy category,” Spike said.

“Actually,” she said slowly. “It’s the opposite. I was sure of that. And everyone loves to tell me how wrong I am, and so I keep bringing up the soul thing, because really, I don’t have any other evidence to give them.” She finally turned to look back at him. “But now I do,” she said. Her throat again began fighting against her when she thought of Spike conquering his demons, but this time she forced her way through it. “And I’m proud of you,” she choked out.

He raised his eyebrows and at first took on a look of surprise, but then smirked and glanced up at the ceiling. “Sorry, not sure I caught that last part,” he said, but it was in a gentler tone than he probably intended.

She cleared her throat and smiled, rolling her eyes. “Well, that’s weird. Bit of advice, Spike, you might want to get that vampire hearing checked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to everyone who had to write Spike's lines on this show, because my gosh is he a difficult character to write for.


	6. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy's and Spike's last night before the Battle of the Hellmouth. Set during "Chosen."

Buffy stood on her front porch, staring out into the night. Maybe the last night she would ever see. And that was a sad thought, but somehow, not one that made her scared. Not anymore. Up to this point it had, but now that she was here, now that everything was set in motion and all she had to do was wait for morning to come, there wasn’t any fear. She was sure it would all come rushing back when she actually had to put the plan in motion, but for now she could just stare at the stars and feel like she was moving in slow motion. It could have been any other night.

The others were probably scared, though. Few if any of them were asleep, even though they were making attempts to be quiet. And she couldn’t blame them. Because it wasn’t just the fear of whether or not they themselves would make it out. They’d become a family in there, and not all of them were going to get through it alive. For some of them, this really was their last night, and for others, it was their last night with them.

And Buffy suddenly knew where she wanted to be on this last night. She turned in the direction of the basement, still feeling like she was moving in slow motion as she wandered down the stairs.

Spike was sitting on his bed, but he stood up when he saw her enter. They stared at each other for a minute, and then Buffy asked, “You wanna go patrol?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Think patrolling’s a bit arbitrary at this point, Love. The town’s cleared out, and everyone left in Sunnydale is under this roof.”

“I know,” she said. “So is that a no?”

He smiled and reached for his coat. “Lead the way, Slayer.”

She tried leading the way, but once they’d made it out the front door, she found that she didn’t really have a plan. A graveyard of some kind was probably where she should be heading, but she knew just as well as Spike that the chances of them finding anything were incredibly slim. So she began idly wandering down a couple of blocks until they were out of her neighborhood, and Spike dutifully followed.

“It’s so quiet,” Buffy said. “There’s no crickets, or bushes rustling, or dogs barking or anything.”

Spike looked up at the sky. “It’s like the world’s given up.”

“It hasn’t, though,” Buffy said. “The rest of the world is moving like nothing’s wrong.”

“And your job is to keep it that way,” Spike said. “That’s a pretty hefty burden.”

“Tell me about it,” she said.

He glanced at her. “Do you ever wish it hadn’t been you?”

“All the time,” she said promptly.

“But are you glad it is? Truthfully, in a big picture, weighing the good with the bad way…are you happy you were chosen?”

“What, you mean with all the pain, and loneliness, and death, and frequent helping of apocalypses?” she asked. She looked up and he gave her a gentle smile, and she sighed and returned it. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I am.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you don’t feel that way a lot of the time,” he said. “And sometimes when I see you hurting so badly I wish it would all go away for you. But, more often than not, I just have to sit back and watch the show, Buffy, and you always put on a hell of a performance. Of course you were chosen. I never truly understood what a Slayer meant for the world until our fates intertwined. It almost makes me feel like I owe it to your enemies to warn them.”

She laughed because she felt like she ought to, but really she just wanted to stand still and bask in the warmth of his words. When had he learned to say what she needed to hear, right when she needed it? He never gave her idle compliments, either, which was a nice change of pace from the rest of her friends.

She reached out and found his hand, and his fingers curled around hers, easily, like he wasn’t surprised by it. “You know, you should be a motivational speaker,” she said.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I’m a very motivational person. Usually through physical force and piercing stares and a bumpy forehead, however.”

“Hey, if that’s what it takes to get people all motivatey,” she said, and he laughed.

“I think I’ll leave that job to you,” he said. “You’ve developed quite the motivational prowess as of late.”

“It’s exhausting,” she said. “I think when this is over I’m only going to say dumb, shallow things for at least a month, just to rebalance the universe.”

“So no sparsely attended seminars in your future then?” he asked.

“Only the ones Giles calls. Assuming he sticks around.”

Spike’s grip on her hand tightened, and she wondered if he knew she was thinking that Giles might not live past tomorrow. He probably knew. She was convinced the soul had equipped him with insight into her mind that he definitely hadn’t had before. But the thought of Giles dying wasn’t one she particularly wanted to entertain. She tried to think of anything to change the subject to, but was drawing a blank, and he didn’t say anything, either.

But, weirdly, it was peaceful enough just to walk in silence like they were. There was a time where doing so lead to awkward situations where her mind would frantically race trying to figure him out, but now it was a comfortable silence, and him walking next to her was a comfortable presence.

By now they had finally made it to a graveyard, and Spike suddenly stopped. “Well, well,” he said. “Seems like your Slayer intuition is still in peak condition, Pet.”

Buffy shrugged as she looked at three vampires huddled around a tiny fire, with a bottle of whiskey that they seemed to be passing around. “I’d call it more of a happy accident.”

She and Spike marched up to them, and Buffy crossed her arms. “What are you guys even still doing here?” she asked, and got the same thrill she always did watching them jump in surprise. “Paying your respects? Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure they’d understand if you came back another time, seeing as how there’s a literal apocalypse in town right now.”

“The Slayer!” one of them cried, and punched his neighbor. “You said she wouldn’t still be around!”

“You should have done your research,” Buffy said, picking him up by his shirt collar and throwing him into a gravestone. “I’m always at the scene of trouble.”

The other two scrambled up and began fighting them, and at some point during the thick of it Buffy suddenly felt an odd sense of normalcy. This was familiar, and this she knew she could handle, and her fighting partner was right there, backing her up, following her dance perfectly until they’d staked them all. It seemed wrong to feel so safe while risking her life, but just the routine of it made tomorrow seem a million years away.

“Well,” Spike said. “That certainly got the blood pumping. Or for you anyway, I imagine.”

“I know,” Buffy said. “It’s too bad there won’t be any more. We were lucky with these guys.”

“You suggesting we head back, then?” Spike asked.

“Do we have to?”

He smiled, and she could see the understanding in his eyes. “No harm in doing a thorough sweep.”

The word “thorough” was one that he probably regretted using, because Buffy was going to take him at his word. She walked around her usual route, and then walked it again, and then took an entirely different path, one that might have been in danger of getting them lost if it wasn’t such a small town that she knew exactly where they were.

She and Spike talked, occasionally, but he seemed to be at ease with the silence as well, and if he was trying to avoid the topic of tomorrow, then that would be easier by not saying anything at all. She knew she couldn’t make this walk last forever, but she didn’t know when she would have stopped if she hadn’t stumbled on a rock in the park.

Spike was instantly there to catch her. “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t go twisting an ankle on me now, Love. Everyone in your house would be clamoring for my head if I let you get an injury right before…before you’re needed.”

He was so close to her, and a very immature part of her wanted to pretend that she had twisted her ankle, just so he wouldn’t let go of her. She laughed, and straightened up. “That would be so anti-climactic,” she said. “‘Hey, Buffy, how was the apocalypse?’ ‘Oh, actually, I hurt my ankle, so I couldn’t make it.’” She made her way over to the foot of a tree and sat down with a groan. “Or maybe because my legs were too sore. Seriously, I think I’ve put in all my steps for the rest of the year.”

He walked over and slowly sat down beside her. “So being a tour guide isn’t a career option for you either?” he asked.

“I must have shown you all of Sunnydale,” Buffy said. “I think I’d qualify.”

“Well there isn’t much, in all fairness,” he said. “I’d seen it before, though. Looks the same.”

“Yeah, not a lot of changes in five years,” she said.

“Or in eleven,” he said. “I came here once, before you were the Slayer. In 1991, I wanted to see if living on a hellmouth was as exhilarating as the stories made it sound. And I mean sure, definitely a lot of evil vibes rolling off this place, but I got bored pretty quickly, and moved on.”

“Where to?” she asked.

“Prague,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably, and Buffy decided not to ask if that’s where he’d been before coming to Sunnydale again. Especially because she knew the answer was yes.

“You’ve been all over the world,” she said.

“A lot of it, yeah,” he said.

“I’ve never even left California,” she said.

“Well, not a bad place to spend your whole life,” he said. “Besides, the world gets smaller once you’ve seen most of it. You start coming over a bit claustrophobic.”

“Still,” she said. “I always wanted to see a little bit more than this corner.”

“Yeah?” he asked quietly. She looked up at him and he tentatively reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I’ll take you, then,” he said.

His hand lingered on the side of her face, and she didn’t dare to move for fear he would take it away. “What about being claustrophobic?” she eventually asked.

“Well, I haven’t been everywhere,” he said. “I wager we could find somewhere to remind me that the world is gargantuan and I couldn’t possibly see it all even if I had eternity to do so. Which I do.”

“Like where?” she breathed.

“Well, I always wanted to see Australia.”

“Australia’s a lot of desert, Spike,” she said, rolling her eyes and grinning.

“Well, that would account for my never having gone, then.” His hand started dropping, so Buffy slid down until she could put her head on his shoulder. She felt him stiffen up, but only for a moment, and then he moved his arm around her and rested his chin on her head.

She found his hand and began absent-mindedly playing with his fingers. “I used to have this obsession with Italy,” she said. “I don’t know why. I just always thought that would be the coolest place to go.”

“Mm,” he said. “Italy’s charms are grossly overexaggerated. Paris on the other hand is a right Garden of Eden.”

“Really,” she said. “Good to know.”

He didn’t respond, and she could feel herself zoning out, which was a sign that her insomnia was reaching its end. Which wasn’t surprising. Of course the ground was hard and her legs really did ache and her makeup was starting to feel like it had been left on too long, but she’d known the minute Spike’s arm went around her that she wouldn’t be able to keep awake if they stayed like this. She turned her face to bury it in his familiar leather coat, but stopped when she heard a clinking noise, and saw him pull the amulet out and watch it dangle from his fingers.

“So what’s so special about this thing, anyway?” Spike asked.

“Put that away,” she said urgently, but kept her voice soft.

He glanced down at her. “Buffy, I’m not afraid—”

“Well, I am, okay?” she asked. “I don’t know what it’s going to do, but I think—” She stopped. “Just put it away,” she quietly begged.

He slowly complied. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and this time did bury her face in his coat, gripping the hand around her waist with both of hers. He lifted his other hand up to cradle her head. “I’m sorry, Love,” he said again. “I know you think you have to be brave all the time, but you should also know that I don’t need anymore convincing of your bravery.”

She scoffed. “Of course I know that. You’ve always been so easy to just…fall apart in front of, and sometimes I hate you for that.”

“Really?” he asked, and it was truly shocking how much pain and worry he could pack into that one word.

“No, you dope,” she said. “You want to know the reason I stopped trying to kill you, even though I couldn’t stand you? It’s not because you were harmless. It was because you were someone I didn’t have to be a superhero for, and never isn’t a strong enough word for the amount of time I’ve had someone like that in my life before. I hate being weak in front of anybody, but you just…you get it, you get a lot of it, a lot of me, sometimes even before I do, and you have no idea how…nice it is. And I hate that it feels nice.”

“Because it seems wrong to feel at peace for feeling weak,” he said.

“Can you just give the insight thing a rest for like, five minutes?”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Not how it works, I’m afraid.” He pulled his hand away from hers and began stroking her hair, so she reached for his other one as she shifted her position into one where she was fully leaning on him.

She closed her eyes and thought of Giles telling her “You rely on him, he relies on you.” Thinking back to their first confrontation in the school, and really every circumstance from that point, she still didn’t know how they’d ended up here. But they did rely on each other, completely, and it took every bit of concentration she had to not think about what she knew was going to happen to him when he put that amulet on. But he was strong, incredibly strong, and she didn’t know for sure, and there was no one else…

She could feel herself fading, but was dimly aware that Spike’s movements across her head had slowed. “Hey,” she whispered. “You can’t fall asleep, you know.”

“I’m not,” he murmured.

“You are, I can hear it in your voice,” she said. “Just don’t blame me if you sleep through the sunrise.”

“I won’t,” he said. “Got a body clock.”

“I didn’t think you guys actually had that,” she said. “Giles…said it was an urban legend…”

“Shh,” he said, in a voice somehow softer than a whisper. “Tell that mother hen brain of yours to stop its clucking. It’s gonna be okay.”

And Buffy believed him. Of course it was very difficult not to, at this point, since she was more asleep than awake anyway, but she probably would have trusted him anyway.

You rely on him, he relies on you.

He woke her up as smoothly as she’d fallen asleep. He kissed her forehead, just once, and said “Time to get a move on, Duckling,” and for the third morning in a row she opened her eyes and looked at him and felt like there was nothing that could defeat her.

He smiled at her and stood up, holding his hands out to her. She took them, and glanced at the sky. “So this body clock,” she said. “It runs slow, doesn’t it?”

“No,” he said. “I woke up about ten minutes ago.”

Buffy nodded. “And now we might get caught in the sunlight because you chose to stare at me for ten minutes. So when you said we need to get a move on…”

“I meant we need to book it, yes,” Spike said, looking at the sky as well, where the stars were just starting to fade. He was still holding her hands, but he let go of one of them as they took off running.

They arrived at the front door just as the sun was starting to show itself. “See?” Spike said. “I told you it would be fine.”

“You’re just lucky my legs weren’t still hurting, or you would have to carry me for the second half of that,” Buffy said.

“Like I wouldn’t have done that anyway,” Spike said, as he pushed the door open. 

“Spike?” she said quickly.

He stopped and looked back, and she looked at him for a moment.

“Thank you,” she said. “For…” Everything, her mind finished. But if she said that it would sound too much like a parting, and if she started crying now she wouldn’t ever be able to stop.

Besides, he would know. He always knew. “Just, thank you,” she said, with a nervous laugh.

He gave her that loving smile that spread throughout his entire demeanor, and reached forward to stroke her cheek. “Chin up, Slayer,” he said. “Our story’s just beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have written this chapter a thousand different ways, and, I'm sure that's how many times this scene has been imagined by others. It's like the people making the show knew they were handing us a fanfic prompt on a silver platter.


	7. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike actually gets on the boat to find Buffy (which means I'm essentially disregarding the comics). Set during "Harm's Way."

This grief was different. She thought she’d experienced all the types of grief there were. Being broken up with felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to her heart…both times. When her mother died, she felt like she was on the brink of insanity. Glory taking Dawn made her shut down completely, and coming back to life after having been in heaven was…well, that one was pretty incomparable, but fortunately one she didn’t have to bear for too long. The memory and feeling of where she was had faded pretty rapidly, which made sense, since anyone still walking the earth probably wasn’t allowed to have that information.

But losing Spike didn’t evoke any of those reactions. She didn’t spend every night sobbing into her pillow, she didn’t wonder how she was going to go on living, and she certainly didn’t go catatonic. There was still work to be done, and she knew it, and she poured her heart and soul into doing it.

But she was more, if her friends had to pick a word, distant. She was still around, still fighting, still in the thick of things, still laughing and smiling and joking. But whenever they’d felt disconnected to her in the past, all of them, Buffy included, had blamed it on her being the Slayer, the one and only Chosen, cursed to a life of loneliness because only she could understand the pain.

And now she could barely ever walk down her street without bumping into a new Slayer, and yet she was so much further removed from them all than she ever had been.

Giles said she was maturing, and that was certainly evident, but it wasn’t the reason. She felt more alone now, and her close circle of friends, the ones who loved her and had been there with her through so much, were realizing the reason, even if they didn’t want to admit it.

She had lost the one person who had ever managed to find his way through the labyrinth into her soul. And that kind of grief wasn’t going to be taken away just because she wasn’t allowed to have it. That was just reality, and reality was having no problem with it.

Giles, in a way, selfishly wished that Buffy wasn’t handling it this well. He almost wished that she had shut down, or was a sobbing mess most of the time, or was doing anything that he could wave in her face to show how petty and childish she was being.

But she wasn’t. She was hurting, deeply, and even if she got over it, this was probably going to affect the rest of her life. But she wasn’t letting it get in her way. She was getting stronger and smarter and more responsible every day, and his heart swelled with pride just watching her grow into that.

But he knew something had to change, or she really would be lost to them all forever. He couldn’t say anything, because really, she was doing nothing wrong. And technically there was nothing to fix. But everyone knew she needed something to bring her back down to earth, and all they could do was hope for a miracle.

A miracle was the furthest thing from Buffy’s mind, however, as she sat in a taxi one night with Giles. “There’s a Slayer in LA,” she said. “One who’s been in a psych ward for several years. That means she will have had no idea what happened to her when she was activated six months ago. We’ll have to send someone to get her.”

“We can send Andrew,” Giles said. “Buffy—”

“Andrew?” she asked. “It’s not that I doubt his loyalty, just his ability to not screw this up.”

“He won’t be alone, we’ll send a team with him,” Giles said.

“Good,” she said, flipping through a file. “Okay, and then Willow is reporting a potential group of them in Brazil. As in, triplets. How weird is that that three sisters all were Slayers?”

“Buffy.”

“We’re running out of room, actually,” Buffy said, pulling out another file. “I think we need to move headquarters again. What about that place in—”

Giles reached over and gently took the files out of her hands, despite her protests. “Buffy, I’m pleased that you’re so invested in all of this, but really, you don’t have to be working every second,” he said.

She looked at him skeptically. “Wow, where was that Giles during all those years of training?”

“Well, I said even then that there should be a balance, but you always seemed to err on the side of trivialities.”

“Okay,” Buffy said. “So you think I’m not being trivial enough? What, should we discuss my hair style and where you bought that suit?”

“We needn’t go that trivial,” he smiled. “Just a normal conversation will do.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, and thought for a minute. “Well, I can’t think of any topic that doesn’t involve work somehow, can you?”

“Have you ever heard of a Mohra demon?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“They’re a very vicious and powerful species of warriors.”

“Okay, have they been spotted somewhere? Should I be worried about these guys?”

“No,” Giles said slowly. “Not exactly. I only bring them up because their blood has a sort of…unique power. If mixed with the blood of someone undead, it can make them human.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Huh. You just know that some of the more messed up ones are selling their blood on an underground market somewhere.”

Giles was silent for a moment. “Is that all you took from that?” he asked.

“Well, I’m not undead, so…”

“And there’s no one you know who is?”

She gave a small smile. “Angel will be fine,” she said quietly. “His humanity or lack thereof is none of my business.”

Giles nodded. “Quite right.” He paused again, and then ventured. “And if…you’d known about this when Spike was alive…”

She turned and looked out the window. “Well I didn’t, so there’s no point in asking,” she said.

“Do you love him?” Giles pressed. “If he came back today, would you…would you want…”

“Giles,” she said, turning back with a smile. “Don’t confuse me with the members of the Scoobies who actually try to bring people back from the dead. He’s gone, and yes, I love him, and probably always will, because that’s how I am, but that doesn’t matter. I haven’t said a word about him since we left California, so—”

“I noticed,” Giles said quietly.

She pursed her lips. “So don’t ask me.”

“I just worry about you, is all,” he said.

“I know you do,” she said. “My mom always did too, especially before she knew I was the Slayer, and I had no way of convincing her that I really was going to be fine. And I have no way of convincing you of that, either.”

Giles had no answer to that, and both were silent until Buffy glanced out the window again. And suddenly she sat up straighter, and then whipped around to look at Giles. “Where are we going?” she asked in suspicion. “This isn’t the way home, this is the way to…” she looked back out the window again. “Are we heading towards the docks?”

“Buffy, I do know that you are going to be all right,” he said. “And I know that back in Sunnydale I had trouble coming to terms with that, and I may have tried to tell you how to live your life.”

“Don’t change the subject, Giles!” She said.

“But I thought I was right,” he said. “Maybe I was. Maybe I’m wrong now for even thinking that. Maybe…”

The car stopped, and Buffy sat back in her seat, crossing her arms and looking at Giles. “You’d better tell me what the hell is going on,” she said.

“I got a phone call,” he said. “No idea how he got the number, though I suppose if he was smart enough to find the resources in LA, then…”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

Giles slowly stepped out of the car, and walked around to the other side to open the door for her. She was still looking at him distrustfully, but he nodded at her to get out and she slowly did. He tilted his head towards a pillar without looking at it, and Buffy turned to look in its direction.

A figure was leaning against it, but even before he turned to look at her she’d recognized the bleached blonde hair. He pushed himself up off the pillar, but didn’t move towards her, not until she did. He seemed even more tentative than she was, but she reached him and glared at him, angry tears springing to her eyes.

He, on the other hand, was looking nervously at her, and he tried to maintain eye contact, but had to keep looking down, and then back up to try again. “Hello, Buffy,” he finally said.

“What is this?” she hissed.

He looked at her in surprise. “What—”

“Did you not really die?”

“Oh—no, I—I did, I promise. Went up in flames and dust, just like you pictured, I reckon. A very painful process, if I might add.”

“Then what is this?” she repeated, coldly.

“If you’re asking me to explain it, then I don’t really think I can oblige, Love—”

He was cut off by her whacking him in the arm, and he looked at her in surprise again, but any biting remark he might have made was cut short by her lip starting to tremble. She was looking at his arm, and she slowly reached out to grab his sleeve. “You’re real,” she whispered. “You’re really…” she looked up at him, and he smiled shyly.

And suddenly she was grabbing his coat lapels and pulling him towards her, bringing his lips to hers. He made a tiny noise of surprise, but then he was there, leaning into it, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

She stayed in the kiss until she’d convinced herself that he wasn’t going to melt away from under her, and finally stepped back and opened her eyes, but she didn’t drop her arms and he didn’t either.

“So,” he said. “Was that just a hello, then?”

She laughed softly. “Yes. But don’t you ever make me say goodbye.”

He raised his hands to the sides of her head and pulled her in to kiss her again. She had no objections, and moved her arms up to around his neck. Again she tried concentrating on how real this was, but the seconds went by and she still felt like it wasn’t enough proof that he was here again. “No arguments here,” Spike murmured against her lips. “I didn’t come all this way and survive being incinerated just to walk out on you, Pet.”

She pulled back and looked at him, straight into his blue eyes, trying again to find proof if she could just stare deep enough into them. “How did you survive it?” she asked.

“Haven’t a bloody inkling. It was like dying in reverse, and then I was standing in the Wolfram and Hart building, as a ghost, no less. And before that mystery could get solved, suddenly I’m no longer Casper, I’m back to being to me, all tangible and so forth.”

“And then you came here,” Buffy said. She turned to look at Giles, and though he was a distance away, she could still see him smiling. “You called him?”

“I needed to know where to find you,” he said. “Needed to know you’d be here. And I didn’t really fancy the idea of me trying to convince you I was alive if it wasn’t…in person.”

“So do all my friends know then?” she asked.

“He said he wouldn’t tell them. Your Watcher can be occasionally helpful when he so pleases. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

She reached a shaking hand up to his cheek, and he pressed her hand with his. “Are you here?” she whispered.

“I’m here,” he answered, just as quietly. “I’m right here, Buffy. And I’m not going anywhere, however much you’re probably going to wish it in the future.”

“The fight isn’t over, you know,” she said. “There’s always going to be another apocalypse to avert, and our lives are always going to be on the line.”

“I know,” he said. “But both you and I are on borrowed time as it is, so we may as well fight until we drop.” She gave no response other than to just look at him with a kind of faraway smile, and he tilted his head until he could match her gaze. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I just…I love you is all.” She wanted to stop there, but she saw him about to say something and quickly cut him off. “And don’t you ever tell me again that I don’t, because I know you believed me. You just wanted me to think you didn’t so that I could move on, didn’t you?”

And there it was, the look on his face that was so full of love it could have killed her. Without seeming to think about it he suddenly lifted her by the waist and swung her around. She giggled, and he stopped and buried his face in the crook of her neck as he hugged her. “My Slayer,” he said, and then pulled back, still holding on to her arms. “No fooling you, is there? Clearly I’m not the only one here with startingly accurate perception. Fine, so you guessed that bit. When did you know…the other thing?”

She reached up to touch his cheek again, but this time it was to wipe away a stray tear with her thumb. She could feel her own tears hovering in her eyes, but she held them back as she grinned up at him. “I can’t believe you,” she said. “You’re telling me ‘I told you so’ because I finally fell in love with you? Forget it, you’re not getting an answer to that question. Just kiss me, William, and don’t ever stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am satisfied that canonically Spike and Buffy do (eventually) meet up again and have an implied endgame relationship. But in my headcanon there was no way he didn't go and tell her he was alive the second he was able to.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
